


A Talking Picture (Or Two)

by Liadt



Category: Strangers - Fandom
Genre: Gen, should have stuck to the Guinness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2366579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/pseuds/Liadt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linda broadens George's cinematic horizons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Talking Picture (Or Two)

**Author's Note:**

> 'Strangers' was a police drama shown on ITV from 1978-82. The initial premise was that the police force in Lancashire set up a team of cops from outside the area (strangers) to investigate when local cops would have been recognised.
> 
> In 'Strangers' George is unaware of Cocteau's films when Linda mentions him, but he does in 'Bulman'. In my head canon Linda introduced George to Cocteau’s films.
> 
> Set shortly after 'The Wheeler Dealers' although no knowledge is needed of the episode to understand this fic.

“What?” barked George Bulman at Linda Doran, without glancing up, as she plonked herself down on his desk. He had been trying with difficulty to adjust the paper in the office typewriter. Due to his habit of wearing gloves nearly all the time, he couldn’t grasp the platen knobs very well.

“I’m off to the cinema tonight,” Linda announced.

“Good for you,” said George and started typing his report up, even though the paper was skewiff and crumpled around the edges.

“And you’re coming with me.”

“If you’re lucky you’ll catch Willis before he leaves.”

“I don’t want Willis - I want you.”

George stopped typing and peered at Linda over his glasses. Was the girl winding him up or was she asking him out. “And why do you require the pleasure of my company in particular?”

“There’s a Cocteau double bill on at the cinema. I remember you saying you hadn’t seen any of his films. As you’re a renaissance rozzer I thought he would be right up your street. Cocteau considered himself a poet. Even with the whiff of a promise, Derek wouldn‘t come to watch French post-war classics with me,” replied Linda.

“Don’t be so sure, the randy sod.” George tapped the sides of the typewriter with his fingers. “So it’s not a date then?”

“No, just as friends.”

“Friends or _friends_?” George had heard that line before. It had been followed up later with questions as to why he hadn’t tried anything on and aspersions were cast on his virility.

“Friends minus the inverted commas. If I were making a romantic overture you’d know - I wouldn’t be wearing this tank top for a start. I’ve noticed you’ve been down in the dumps. It’s not visible to the untrained eye, but I’ve had several years of observing the hardened cop in the wild.”

“I’ll come if you get off my desk and buy me a chip supper afterwards.”

“Chips?”

“You have a lot to learn about raising the seasoned rozzer out of the depths of despair,” said George.

“You’ll have to tell me how in row C in half an hour,” said Linda. She slide off the desk and left a ticket, before exiting the office.

****

George brooded on recent events as he resuming his typing. It was true he was in a mood he needed to snap out of. Linda’s invite had come as a surprise. He didn’t view her as anything other than a colleague. If she had made a pass at him, he wouldn’t have rejected her. He had been an innocent victim in love recently and would have selfishly used her to feel better about himself. It was a rebound reaction. With him and Helen, things hadn’t really progressed beyond a growing fondness, but he hadn’t felt that at ease with a woman for a long while. Not since his ex-wife and he were courting. He found it hard to believe he had been married sometimes. It was a shame Helen hadn‘t forgotten her marriage. Helen’s cheating toerag of a husband had dropped the floozy he had taken up with and she had taken him back. When she told him the news she wasn’t happy, but unfortunately, divorce was a dirty word she wanted no contact with.

****

Several reels of film later, George sat with Linda at the bar of the nearest watering hole to the cinema.

“What’s the verdict of the OU’s star scholar then?” said Linda, tipsily. She had ordered wine instead of her usual Guinness and was beginning to regret the effects.

George rubbed a finger along his pint to help his thoughts along. “Hmm, Cocteau’s flicks are a world away from Keaton and his poetry needs work, but they’re fascinating fairy tales. _Orphée_ more than _La Belle et La Bête_. I think I’ll need a few gold watches to work out if it’s the biggest load of pretentious crap I’ve seen or has more meanings than in last term’s reading list.”

“There’s still one thing I don’t understand about the gloves.”

“I guess ordinary surgical gloves were all they could afford. Finding the magic in the mundane,” speculated George.

“No, why do you wear them, George? If you were on a date would you take them off at the crucial moment or do you have a wool fetish?” joked Linda.

George glowered at her. He briefly spread his gloved hands out and then put them defensively around his pint glass. “These gloves are the sort of gloves a detective of at least the calibre of Chief Inspector would wear. There’s nothing kinky going on in my head. You’d do well to sort your own attire out if you want to rise above the rank of DC one day, Miss Doran.”

“I don’t doubt you’re the straightest copper in the force. I didn‘t mean to offend - the wine's gone to my head and my words came out wrong,” said Linda, feeling guilty her teasing had fallen flat and taken the shine off an otherwise enjoyable evening. “How about those chips, with extra mushy peas and scraps, you must be starving?” she said brightly, in an attempt to smooth George’s ruffled feathers.

“Not tonight, the Guinness has filled me up,” said George, stiffly and drained his pint.

Linda had the feeling she would be paying for his drinks all next week as well as for several bacon butties and chip suppers.

****

**Author's Note:**

> Gold watch is rhyming slang for Scotch whiskey.


End file.
